Crushed Velvet
by supershu-chan
Summary: AU, eventual YukiShu. By a twist of destiny, Shuichi is found broken and alone on the street, and swept up into a world he'd only ever dreamt about...and a love he never thought he'd know. Ch5: It's showtime!
1. Lullaby

Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation, or any of its characters. I write this piece of fiction solely for fun, and not for profit. Also, this work will feature several lyric samples by the Ataris. I do not own these, either.

...Holy cow, I wrote a mature disclaimer for once.

Disclaimer Two: This is a very dark story, very different for me. I got the shivers just writing the first chapter. It's dark, it's gritty, it's real. But knowing me, the fluffy bits will work themselves in somehow. But, just as a warning...It's dark.

**Crushed Velvet.**

**Chapter One: Lullaby**

xx

Stumble. Clink. Clatter.

_Shit._

Shuichi flinched, silently praying to everything he could think of, that somehow the beer bottle he'd just kicked, and broken, would go unheard as it clumsily made its way into oblivion. The alley.

Shuichi tried to step on any glass. He didn't mind the pain, much, anymore, but it _would _sting, and he _would _yelp.

He couldn't help it.

He was vocal.

Not as much as he used to be. Now, he knew how to be quiet. He'd learned how to tiptoe, whisper.

He'd done so with great difficulty, but eventually, he'd achieved silence.

He pushed a rebellious strand of dyed-pink hair from his nose, trying his hardest to minimize, muffle, each movement. He didn't want to wake anyone up. He couldn't. It was...dangerous.

He had an apartment. Somewhere. But the rent was long overdue, and the place was despicable anyway.

Besides, on nights like this, dark, so dark, and blurry, he couldn't remember where it was.

He didn't know where he was, either.

Sit down. Wince. Try not to squirm.

He rested his head against the side of a garbage can. Metal. Cold.

Grit your teeth. Clench your fists. It's okay, you can shiver.

You can cry, here, in the dark.

No one's here, Shuichi, he reminded himself, not entirely convinced yet.

You can cry tonight, and it will go unheard.

xx

_From this second-story window,_

_I can hear the church bells calling out my name._

_This table is set for one._

xx

"Go home, Seguchi."

Tohma sat down on the couch. Plaid, ugly, ratty. And itchy. He shifted. Why did Eiri still have this thing? He could afford better.

He could always afford better.

"I wanted to see you, Eiri-san," Tohma said softly, sweetly, his voice dripping syrup, honey. He leaned back, trying to make himself comfortable on the hideous couch, making it clear he was not going anywhere.

"Okay, you saw me." Eiri flicked his cigarette, his arm hanging, dangling, lazily off the armrest. Tohma watched the flickers of light fall to the ground. Crash. Smother. Dead. "Now get the fuck out."

"Eiri-san," Tohma cooed, sticky-sweet, molasses. He leaned forward, cupped Eiri's handsome, grimacing face in an elegantly-gloved hand, "is that any way to talk to your brother-in-law?"

"It's the only way." Eiri swatted the hand away, and moved further down the couch, out of arm's reach.

Always out of arm's reach.

"Just one night," Tohma implored. "One more?" He tried to look innocent, tried to look sweet, harmless, with a good-natured twinkle in his eye.

But he knew Eiri well enough to know that all Eiri saw was the evil glint in his eyes, the sparkle of the blade he kept always on hand, just in case there was something he needed to slice. Mangle. Destroy.

Power could be quite convenient, sometimes.

"I'll tell my sister," Eiri said, his voice choked. Strangled. He'd been smoking too much.

Always smoking.

Always remembering.

"And why would she believe you?" Tohma took Eiri's hand, placed it lovingly inside his own gloved one. Tohma wore his glove on top of his wedding ring.

Wouldn't want it getting tarnished.

"When was the last time you told anyone the truth, Eiri-san?"

Eiri coughed. Too much smoke. He wriggled his hand free of Tohma's, still coughing.

So much smoke.

"You're an asshole," Eiri said, his voice all but stolen.

Tohma blinked. Stood up from the couch. It was ugly, and it smelled like smoke.

Just like _him._

He couldn't stand it.

Eiri smirked. Tohma couldn't help but liken the glint to Eiri's eyes to that in his own.

"There, I told the truth. Now get out."

xx

_Even angels would be homesick in this forsaken town._

xx

Shuichi's eyes jerked open.

He bit his bottom lip, held back a whimper.

He'd been stepped on. His finger twitched helplessly, without his permission. His pinky finger.

He chewed his lip harder. Chomped. Choked back a sob.

It was the nicest, most expensive-looking boot he'd ever seen.

It even smelled good.

Shuichi tried not to move. He tried forgetting how to breathe, how to exist.

It never worked, though.

"My, my," a voice said, pouring into Shuichi's ears from above. He couldn't see that far up. It was dark, and it hurt to move. Shuichi imagined this voice coming from heaven, if there was such a place.

Sugar-coated. Rhythmic. Hypnotizing. Like a chant, a lullaby.

Lullaby.

The edges of everything blurred, fuzzed, melted into darkness.

He hadn't slept in days.

"What is such a pretty little thing doing out here?" Shuichi heard the voice ask, to no one in particular.

He hated being called pretty. It sounded girly. It was demeaning.

And it was a lie.

Shuichi knew he was dirty. Filthy. It didn't matter how many showers he took, how frantically and obsessively he washed himself, whenever he could...

He was dirty.

Shuichi felt himself being...lifted. This person, his hands were so soft. Silk? Velvet? He couldn't remember, he didn't know.

He fell asleep in this person's arms, to the tune of his voice. Melodic, captivating.

The last thing he remembered it saying, the final verse of his lullaby, echoed through his mind as he faded into unconsciousness.

"Let's see if I can't clean you up."

His teeth released his bottom lip. He tasted the blood, along with his own tears. Salty. Dirty.

_You can't clean me up._

In this man's arms, he cried himself to sleep.

_I'm dirty._

xx

A/N: Wow. I'm pretty sure no one enjoyed that. I love dark, twisted things, but...wow. A few lines in here really made me cringe. Just a few points I have to bring up.

This is an experiment. I wanted to try writing something a bit more realistic than usual. Something with substance. I was tired of candy heart stories. I wanted to really sink my teeth into something...and come out with something amazing, something I may never have thought of before.

This story...is gonna be one heck of a journey.

I also wanted to experiment with the third-person narrative, which I, for one, think I'm terrible with. It's practice. I'm also working on what **Vindalootoo**, one of the most fantastic authors in the Gravi section, calls 'intense third'...which is pretty much like limited omniscient...but...intenser. :D

Speaking of Vindaloo...I hope this doesn't seem too similar to 'Casting Couch'! I actually started writing this before she posted that story. It all started when I read a newspaper article about prostitution...

This is getting really long, but one more thing. Please don't hate me for making Tohma a bad guy! I don't hate him anymore, but I still like to think there's always some maniacal cackling going on behind those serene smiles. Someone has to be the villain, you know. Oh yeah, and the blade I mentioned is just a metaphor. Sorry, I don't do violence. Just angst. :D

Lastly, if anyone actually made it through this whole thing, thank you SO much for reading! I don't really expect anyone to _like _this, but hey, constructive criticism is always welcome! So tell me what you think, please. And thanks again!


	2. Shimmer

Disclaimer: Maki Murakami owns Gravitation and its characters. That one lyric belongs to the Ataris. All the rest of the words belong to me.

**Chapter Two: Shimmer**

xx

Blink.

Shimmer.

Shuichi sighed into the pillow, watching the splotches of golden stardust behind his eyelids fade away, along with the last of his dream.

A dream that had, he remembered with another shaky sigh, seemed far too real.

Clutch.

He wrapped his arms tighter around the pillow, hugging it, crushing it.

And slowly, as slowly as his stardust dream was flickering away, it dawned upon him.

He hadn't fallen asleep with a pillow.

Blink.

He shot up, tangling himself in the silky sheets, panting wildly and desperately.

Where was he?

Someone's home? No. _No. _He didn't do homes. He did...hotels. Roadside motels. Cheap and dirty.

Like him.

He glanced around the room – so bright, under the sunlit glow of a new day, that he couldn't tell if the walls were painted white or beige.

But it was...clean.

Tidy.

Freaking immaculate.

He didn't belong here.

Where _was _he?

He curled his legs up against his chest, set his chin on his knees. Hugged himself, wrapped up so tight in the soft, soft sheet.

And he rocked. Back and forth, back and forth. Slowly. Shaking.

Don't cry, he pleaded to himself. Don't cry, you're safe here.

Maybe.

He sniffed back a sob, trying to ignore the lingering scent of freshly-sprayed air freshener. Swaying back and forth, back and forth, he did the only other thing he could think to do.

Sing.

He didn't know what he was singing. Just a jumble of words, whichever ones were rattling around in his head.

Glitter. Diamond. Sunset.

Passion.

He liked pretty words, ones he wasn't familiar with. Ones he would otherwise never get to say.

He liked to sing...glamourous words.

That was the kind of lifestyle he'd always imagined for himself. Back in high school, back before everything. His entire life revolved around that dream.

Not so much the luxury and sparkling champagne, though.

All he wanted, really, was to make music. Music was _in _him. There was a song inside him, he knew there was. Any moment now, it would be ready to burst into life and technicolor.

He just wanted...to sing. To share his words. His song.

His heart.

The heart that had, through all this, everyday, threatened to give up.

But no matter what...

No matter _what._

He would never give up on love.

And he would never, ever give up on his dream.

That's why, every night...

He squeezed his eyes shut tight, and pretended not to notice as his voice faltered. Cracked.

Someday, he knew it...

He _knew _it.

He would find his song.

Knock.

Knock knock.

A dainty knock on his door...

Was it a girl?

Oh God. Oh God oh God oh God, this could _not _be happening.

"C-Come in," he croaked. Choked. Licked his dry, chapped lips, and choked again.

This...was...no girl.

He couldn't have been much taller than Shuichi, but he seemed to tower over him. He was...intimidating. Scary.

And fancy.

"Ah, you're awake," he said...in...that voice. That voice.

Lights. Sounds. _Music._

That had been a dream, hadn't it?

Hadn't it?

"Would you mind...joining me for lunch?" The man asked, suddenly, in that voice, swirls of color and piano melodies.

Shuichi scratched the back of his neck. He couldn't think of anything else to do.

He couldn't imagine how stupid he looked.

He bowed his head. "I...I'm sorry."

"Hmm?" A short hum. Confused...concerned.

"I don't know how I got here, but..." He clenched his fists, trying to stop his shoulders from shaking, his teeth from chattering. No use. "I'm very sorry for taking up your space."

"No, no, that's quite alright," the man said, taking off his hat and sitting carefully on the bed, next to Shuichi. Blond hair. Almost white. Like a crown of feathers. Platinum feathers.

Shuichi had never felt more ugly in his life.

"I was the one who invited you here, after all," the man finished with a wink. He placed his gloved hand on Shuichi's. More silk. This guy must be super-rich!

Gulp.

"I'll send you up some clothes, and I expect you to be downstairs in half an hour," he said with a smile.

One that held something that seemed a lot like...kindness.

Gulp.

Around the various lumps in his throat, Shuichi finally managed to whisper a "Thank you."

But the man had already left, and closed the door behind him.

xx

_Sometimes this all feels like a dream._

xx

"Eiri-san," the voice on the other end of the phone cooed, already sounding sticky-sweet.

Fuck. Why had he even picked up the damn thing?

The scene had actually been moving along quite nicely in his mind, and he kind of _needed_ to type it out. Right now.

It was like an itch. In his brain. He couldn't get to it, couldn't scratch.

It was torture.

Normal people could cradle the phone between their cheek and shoulder, and continue on typing flawlessly, if somewhat uncomfortably.

But Yuki Eiri what not, under any circumstance, what most people would consider normal, and...dammitall, his writing mood had been completely terminated.

"This had better be good," he snarled into the receiver.

"Oh, it is," Seguchi assured him, his voice reaching the octave it usually only reached when he wanted to annoy the living daylights out of Eiri.

And here he thought it would be a _good _day.

"Be at the club in half an hour," Seguchi told him sweetly, without so much as an explanation.

He chewed his cigarette angrily. "Half an hour? Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Half an hour," Seguchi repeated, clipping his vowels in that ever-so-businesslike manner, making himself perfectly understood.

Eiri raked a hand through his hair. Dry. Brittle.

He was planning to take a shower once he'd typed that scene out, but that wouldn't be happening now, would it?

He growled. "This had _better _be good."

"Oh, don't worry, Eiri-san," Seguchi giggled. Eiri cringed. "It will be."

xx

A/N: First things first: I _hate _this chapter. This is like its sixty bajillionth rewrite, and, well...I've pretty much come to terms with the fact that it's not getting much better than this. Oh well. My Chapter Twos always suck eggs.

Next chapter, though, I assure you, is much much better than this. (If that's saying much at all...) I know I've been keeping it pretty vague, but that's 'cause I'm trying to make it all very mysterious...whether or not I'm succeeding, I have no clue.

Hopefully, it's not too vague...or is that a good thing? I don't know! What was I thinking, trying to write serious literature??!! -wails-

Well, anyway, I really like how Chapter Three's coming along. Shu and Eiri finally meet, and (some of) Tohma's evil plan is revealed! Yay! This may or may not be a hint: I'm naming it 'Rapture'. I wonder if anyone's stuck around long enough to be intrigued by that. Hmm.

I've gotta stop drinking chocolate milk as I type.

Okay, one last thing, um...WOW. Holy cow, you guys. I cannot BELIEVE the response this story has gotten! Like...wow! Thank you so much, from the very bottom of my heart, for all the reviews and stuff! You have no idea how much it means to me!

I really hope this chapter didn't turn you off. Please stick around for the journey, I'd be so happy if you did! Thank you so so much for reading, everyone! Constructive criticism is always welcome...just go easy on me...hee.


	3. Rapture

Disclaimer: Characters are Murakami's. That dinky little club is mine, though. No lyrics this chapter, 'cause not only am I lazy, but inconsistent too!

**Chapter Three: Rapture**

xx

Eiri watched, almost amused, as the kid's eyes grew larger and larger with every new inch of the room they took in.

Such curious eyes. Weird, even. Dark blue, almost too dark to even be blue. Maybe they were purple. Or somewhere in between.

For now, he'd leave it at indigo.

Such...big eyes. He hadn't seen that kind of innocent wonder since...fuck, since _himself_, back before the sparkle in his own eyes was stolen.

Eyes he tore away from the gawking, stumbling kid.

He didn't need to be thinking about this so early in the afternoon.

He didn't need to be drinking so early either, he reminded himself dully as he took another swig of beer, but damned if that stopped him.

xx

The first thing Shuichi noticed was the neon. Bright, bright, so bright...

Blink.

Shining ink blots in front of his eyes. Metallic sparkles blocking his view.

And then the velvet. Blanketing everything. Engulfing the room in elegance. Rapture. Midnight blue. Emerald green. A color he couldn't remember the name of...fuchsia? It was like pink that got lost, halfway to purple. Like that.

Then, finally...a guy. On stage. Jet-black hair flopping in front of his eyes. Deep eyes. Intense. Mean eyes.

He was...singing.

Shuichi didn't recognize the song...it was slow. Sexy. Maybe in English.

Everyone in the room had their eyes glued to the singer. Captivated. Rapture.

What was this place?

He felt so lost. Like an alien who flew in on a shooting star and somehow crashed here. Smothered and blinded by the bright lights of Tokyo, galaxies away from home.

Or maybe...he was the human. A lucky, lucky, ordinary human who had, by some miracle or another, tripped onto Shimmer Planet.

All he could see was sparkle.

And velvet.

xx

The child was absolutely enchanted. Of course he was. Who wouldn't be?

Tohma smiled to himself.

This was the first time he'd heard a voice like this in a long while. Since Ryuichi.

This boy could be Ryuichi. He could.

Tohma could turn him into Ryuichi with one snap of his fingers.

But he wouldn't. Not without consulting Eiri first, that is.

It was only fair, after all, that Eiri help him out too.

Tohma pulled the young boy – who was practically _drooling, _how unsightly – to where Eiri sat, scribbling on a napkin. The only one in the room not watching the show.

Who was it again...? Oh, yes. Aizawa. Talented kid, but nothing special.

Had the audience charmed, though.

Tohma would keep him around for a few more weeks.

Eiri chomped his cigarette, looking agitated, anxious, as if he couldn't get the words out fast enough. He really had such terrible penmanship. Worked much better in front of a computer.

Tohma cleared his throat. Lightly, but noticeably.

Subtlety, as everyone learns at one point or another, is everything.

Can't let anyone be thinking you're up to something.

Eiri lifted his head, slowly, still writing. Seeing Tohma, he rolled his eyes.

Tohma had long since learned to take it personally.

_Now _what was the child gawking at? Really. Standing there with your mouth hanging open is just rude. Tohma patted him softly on the shoulder.

Subtlety.

"Oh!" He watched the boy's shoulders straighten, mouth clamp shut. Very good, very good. He looked at Tohma expectantly.

His eyes...such an odd color. Exotic. Lovely.

"Introduce yourself," Tohma instructed, waving his hand discreetly in Eiri's general direction.

"Y-Yes," the boy stammered, his cheeks quickly flushing bright pink. Features that may be considered unbecoming in most cases, but this boy was definitely special. Even Tohma would admit, he was...cute.

"I'm Sh...Shindou Shuichi," he said, quickly, rushed, bowing so hurriedly it could hardly be considered polite. Nobody minded their manners these days.

Tohma tried not to make a show of clucking his tongue.

"Hn." Eiri was too busy to reply, scrawling...an outline, it looked like, for whatever it was that he wrote these days. Romance, was it? How silly.

"And this, Shindou-san," Tohma said, beaming the way he found he only could when talking about Eiri, "is my esteemed colleague, Yuki Eiri-san."

Shindou-san's eyes widened. They were enormous. And really, very lovely.

The customers would adore him.

"'Esteemed colleague'?" Eiri asked around his cigarette, his voice sharp and sounding somewhat ragged, not to mention more than a little peeved.

Tohma shrugged happily, gesturing for Shindou-san to follow him as he slid into the booth opposite Eiri. "Would you have prefered 'precious brother-in-law'?"

Eiri grimaced, looking rather tortured as his slid his pen behind his ear casually.

But Tohma knew by now not to take it personally.

xx

"So, Shindou-san." Seguchi-san's (he had introduced himself on the ride over) voice, soft and sonorous, seemed to float over his head...

"Where do you work?"

...And slap him in the face.

Seguchi-san was so classy. Feathers and elegance. And Yuki-san...Shuichi couldn't even look at Yuki-san. He had the kind of heart-stopping beauty that...made Shuichi's heart stop.

Everything about him was golden.

He had never seen anyone so beautiful.

Shuichi squirmed slightly in his seat, and turned his eyes to the wall. Here he sat, in this exquisite place, with two exquisite people, and he felt exquisitely out-of-place.

And pathetic.

"I don't work," he said pathetically. To the wall. "I'm...um, unemployed, sir."

Seguchi-san may have nodded.

Yuki-san may have coughed.

Shuichi may have died of embarrassment.

"Hmm." Seguchi-san, Shuichi saw out of the corner of his eye, waved over a waiter. "Tell me, Shindou-san, have you ever heard of Sakuma Ryuichi?"

Without his permission, Shuichi's head jerked upward to look at Seguchi-san. Of...of course he had! Sakuma-san was the most popular local singer ever!

Infamous. Illustrious. A legend, at least among the club kids from the darker parts of Tokyo.

Shuichi had only heard him once. By accident. He'd walked past one of Sakuma-san's small concerts at a festival. Then sat down and watched the entire show.

Mesmerized.

Sakuma-san's voice was...brilliance. Radiance. Rapture.

He was out of this world. Like a singing god, or something.

Ever since then, Shuichi had wanted to be just like Sakuma-san.

His breath hitching in his throat, Shuichi nodded. Did this man know Sakuma-san?

"Do you know where he got started?" Seguchi-san asked, staring Shuichi directly in the eye.

"Um." What was he supposed to say? Was there a correct answer? Was this a trick question? "In his bedroom?"

Yuki-san snorted.

Shuichi sunk down into the velvet-covered booth. Maybe, just maybe, please God, he would disappear.

Seguchi-san laughed kindly. "Presumably so. But professionally, Shindou-san, he debuted right here, at this club."

Blink.

"You are a singer, are you not?"

Blink blink.

"I heard you singing this morning, Shindou-san, and I think you have an exceptional talent."

No no no. No. Yuki-san could not see him blush like this! No! Why wouldn't he disappear already?

"Um...thank you," he squeaked.

Glanced around for a glass of ice water to splash on his head.

A fire extinguisher would work, too.

"In fact," Seguchi-san continued, smiling widely, "you remind me a great deal of my dear friend, Sakuma Ryuichi. What do you think, Eiri-san?"

Oh, goodness no. This was not happening. It couldn't be. Shuichi was nothing like the magical, wonderful Sakuma-san, not at all! And this absolutely gorgeous man was going to tell him so.

Right to his pathetic face.

He chewed his lip.

Better not to burst into tears.

Yuki-san shrugged, after eyeing Shuichi for a few minutes. Watching his every...pathetic...move.

Shuichi dipped his chin.

"He's cute."

And jerked it right back up again.

_This was not happening._

Couldn't he just _die?_

Seguchi-san smirked. Stood up. "Thank you Eiri-san. Now, I have some business matters to attend to, if you don't mind." Walked away.

Yuki-san leaned back against the velvet. Fished around in his pocket. Pulling out a cigarette pack, he locked his eyes on Shuichi's.

Golden.

Rapture.

"Whatever you do, kid," Yuki-san's voice warned him. Dark. So deep. So _sexy._

Heart-stopping.

"Don't ever lose the sparkle in your eyes."

xx

A/N: Well, that was fun! -falls over- Now a little bit of the plot is revealed! I sure am dragging this out, hmm?

I had fun with this chapter though, and I think that out of what I've written so far (which isn't much at all!), this one is one of the standouts. IMO, anyway. I remember being really in love with the word 'rapture' the day I wrote this, and saying it all over the place. That must be why it appears so much here...eheh.

And so, I'll make this quick! Thank you so much to everyone who came back to review chapter two, and all the new reviewers too! I love and cherish each of your comments so much! I really hope you'll continue to share this little story with me!

Also, if you think my writing is ever getting too choppy, or not choppy enough, don't hesitate to tell me. I'm having serious issues with that.

Next chapter: Lots of new characters are introduced, and Shuichi wears a mini-skirt! (What a strange advertisement...) Please stick around, and thank you so much for reading! Yay!


	4. Rockstar

Disclaimer: Characters are not mine. Thank you!

**Chapter Four: Rockstar.**

xx

The kid stumbled through the door, short and skinny, a mop of almost fluorescent pink hair topping his head.

At first glance, Hiro thought he was a girl.

But after a few minutes, he was proven wrong, when the surprisingly boyish voice cried out, filling the entire room.

And echoing too.

Must be a singer.

"But I don't know this song!" He wailed desperately, grabbing the large hand of the man who had given him the...sheet music, it looked like. "I don't know how to speak English!"

"That's too bad," the man (Hiro had seen him around, but couldn't remember his name, or what his job was) said gruffly, easily pushing the kid away with one shove.

"Please, let me sing something in Japanese!" He clasped his hands together, begging, on the verge of tears now. "Or, um...I write my own songs!"

"Tonight," the man growled, his sneer growing with every word he spoke, "you sing 'Fever'. Maybe, if your pansy ass doesn't get booed off the stage the second you set foot on it, we'll consider letting you sing your shit poetry."

The tall, rather hairy man stalked off, grumbling.

Leaving the pink-haired kid to collapse on the floor.

Crying.

Hiro couldn't stand tears.

Sighing, he walked over and kneeled down next to the boy, and awkwardly placed his hand on the kid's knee. "Hey, you okay? I know we're not the friendliest bunch here, but..." He chuckled. "We try."

A wet, miserable, and very confused face looked up at him. "I can't speak English," he sobbed.

Guessing that it was probably what he wanted, Hiro took the boy into his arms. He supposed he'd guessed right when the kid latched on, wrapping his arms around him tightly.

"It's okay," Hiro said, rubbing the kid's back, laughing lightly. This kid was weird, but cute. Hiro liked him already. "I'll help you learn the song. It's pretty easy."

Purple eyes flashed up at him, shining with tears and...hope.

"I'll play for you too, add in some really cool riffs," Hiro offered, nodding his head in the direction of his beloved guitar. "Make you sound like the rockstar you are."

The boy's eyes grew wide, and suddenly...he smiled. It was so genuine, so _real, _it almost knocked Hiro off his feet. He hadn't seen a smile like that in a long time. Especially not around here.

"You really play guitar?" He squealed, his voice now taking on the girly tone that Hiro had imagined. He quickly wiped his tears with the back of his hand. "That's so cool! I've always wanted to play an instrument, but I'm stupid and I have short fingers so..."

"You're not stupid." Hiro bopped him on his pink head. "We need to get to work, if you have any hope of learning that song at all. My bartending shift starts in half an hour."

"You bartend too?" The kid's eyes were practically sparkling with admiration. He jumped up, clutching the damp sheet music he'd used as a makeshift Kleenex.

"Apparently so." Hiro shrugged, laughing. "Being able to twirl beer bottles gets you real far in life, you know. It's currently paying my college bills."

"And college...?" The starry-eyed kid was swaying on the spot. "You're so, like...multitalented!"

Hiro stretched on the ground before standing up as well. "That's what they tell me." He winked. "Really, I just have too much time on my hands."

"Well, I think you're cool," the boy argued. "Oh yeah! And I'm Shuichi."

"Hiroshi. Friends call me Hiro." He ruffled Shuichi's hair. "Welcome to Club Velvet, Shu."

xx

By the time he could pronounce most of the words to 'Fever', and remember roughly half of them, Shuichi found himself in a hot pink pleather skirt.

With a rhinestone belt.

He was also wearing a lime green top, decorated in swirls of sequins, which Shuichi wished he could call a muscle tee. But he knew it was really a tank top.

He was wearing a tank top.

"I look like a girl." He said it on a completely unintentional sigh. He zipped up his pink go-go boots. With platform bottoms that made him three inches taller, at least.

"But a very cute girl." A guy with long blond hair, who was trying on a white leather jacket, smiled at Shuichi. "You look great."

He felt himself blush. "Thank you," he said, slowly, as he got to his feet. Wobble. "But I don't think I'll be able to walk in these shoes..."

A laugh. "No one can. Just wiggle your butt a little, and no one will notice that you're walking like a chicken."

"I feel like a penguin," Shuichi admitted, laughing. Stagger. He flailed his arms desperately before regaining his balance.

Wobble.

Well, kinda.

The guy just keep _laughing _at him! It wasn't his fault he didn't know how to wear girls' shoes!

He stuck out his bottom lip.

"You must be new," Blond-san said randomly, fishing around in a drawer.

"Uh...yeah," Shuichi said, sitting back down on the velvet couch. The shoes were already pinching his feet.

He had started unzipping them when Blond-san handed him a tube of glitter.

Blink.

"You gotta sparkle up there, man," he explained simply.

Clunk.

Those shoes even sounded heavy.

"I've never worn makeup before," Shuichi said quietly, smearing glitter on his collarbone.

"You should more often," Blond-san said, his reflecting winking at Shuichi.

Blond-san's hands ran some sparkly goop through Shuichi's hair. Fluff. Tousle. Messy.

"Sexy," Blond-san remarked, stepping back to admire his handiwork.

Shuichi saw his mirror-self blink.

He did look...different. Special. Like he could be something.

Something worth believing in.

Someone worth loving.

Mirror-Shuichi smiled, and his lips glittered.

"Maa." A voice. Harsh. Demanding.

And jealous.

Maybe.

"Get over here."

Shuichi looked around the room, and found the black-haired singer from before. His eyes still looked so cold. Mean.

He tapped his combat-booted foot impatiently.

Shiver.

"Hey." A tap on his shoulder. "Good luck up there. Blow 'em away, okay, Shu-chan?"

"Okay." A whimper. His voice sounded so stupid. Quiet and scared.

The other guy, he looked scared too. His mean eyes, they also looked...sad. Even as they glared at Shuichi.

He never took his eyes off Shuichi, as he snaked his arm around Blond-san's waist. Slowly. Possessively.

Even after they walked away, Shuichi still felt those eyes on him.

Shiver.

xx

"You ready to rock?" Hiro pulled his guitar strap over his head. His eyes sparkled. Excited.

Shuichi did not feel excited at all.

He felt nervous. Anxious. Scared.

And...sparkly.

"No," he answered honestly, looking down at his feet. Bare. Those shoes _hurt. _He wiggled his toes.

"What?"

The next thing he knew, Hiro was bending over, staring right at Shuichi.

His eyes were so gray. Like a storm cloud.

"You know you can do this, right?" Hiro asked him. His eyes flashed. Lightning.

Shuichi shook his head.

Hiro sighed.

"Well, you can. And don't let anybody tell you otherwise. Got it?"

Shuichi looked up. Nodded. Okay.

Okay.

He could do this.

He could do this.

Right?

He shot one more worried glance at Hiro as the velvet curtains parted.

A burst of light. Like a sunbeam on the hottest summer day. He couldn't see. He couldn't breathe.

The light was shining for him.

It was all for him.

Blink.

Hiro nudged his back gently. A deep, clear voice in his ear. Confident. Excited.

"Get up there, rockstar."

xx

A/N: Ack. I posted late. Forgive me! I try to update every Friday, and if I don't, you can guess that I was either busy or unproductive. Probably both. -laughs-

Um...about this one...I dunno. It was fun? Hiro/Shu is probably my favorite dynamic in the series. They are just awesome. I'm hoping that I write this thing well enough to show the true power of their friendship.

I also love ASK. Don't hurt me!

Uh...I'm too tired to write a proper A/N, so...stay tuned for next chapter, please? Shu's big performance through Yuki's eyes. Should be exciting? To everyone who reviews, thank you with all my soul. I love you more than cheesecake! To everyone else, if you have any feelings at all on this story, love, hate, or somewhere in between, please don't hesitate to tell me. I'd love to hear it!

Thanks for reading, everyone!


	5. Dizzy

Disclaimer: I own nothing! Nothing at all! Not even my brand-new Playstation! (My mom owns it...)

**Chapter Five:** **Dizzy**

xx

Yuki Eiri had been helping his sleazebag of a brother-in-law manage this place since his eighteenth birthday.

That meant...he counted lazily on his fingers...four years in this glorified strip club.

How special.

But never in his four years had he seen some moron hobble onto the stage in bare feet.

Upon further inspection, he realized that self-same moron was that Shindou kid, in a pink miniskirt and looking like someone had dunked his head in a bucket of glitter.

He was also looking a bit seasick. Definitely queasy.

Stage fright?

The kid had been rather timid. He fleetingly wondered where Seguchi had picked him up from.

Before remembering that, sometimes, it was better not to ask.

Seguchi had also said, if he remembered correctly, that this kid was 'exceptional'.

That was really not a word you heard from him everyday.

In fact, the only time Eiri had ever heard him use that word was in reference to...Eiri.

Fuck.

Casually taking another sip of beer, he turned back to the kid, petrified and sparkling, and looking anything but exceptional.

His guitarist sent him a reassuring grin, and before Eiri knew it, a smile had slithered its way onto Shindou's glossy lips.

And he looked less like he was going to puke his guts all over the stage.

Good start.

Seguchi would not have been pleased.

The voice started out soft, slow. Uncertain. Trembling.

But Eiri had to admit, it was...pretty.

Shindou lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the presumably harsh glow of the spotlight. It was all so shockingly amateur that Eiri briefly wondered if this was a joke.

None of the other customers, however, shared his suspicions. In fact, he could practically hear them salivating.

Lot of sick bastards.

Shindou tossed another look at his guitarist, who just smiled. Funny. That guy always looked fantastically sullen while bartending, and just plain bored when accompanying any other singer.

Shindou was definitely...something.

Eiri never claimed to know anything about music. In fact, he'd admit to knowing next to nothing at all. He didn't even _like _it. Most of it was loud, grating, and stupid, and the rest was snooty and monotonous.

So Eiri really had no musical expertise with which to critique Shindou's performance.

Instead, he just...listened.

Shindou's voice was getting stronger, more confident, it seemed, with every note he sang. It was so clear, so _pure_, like sparkling water being poured perfectly into a glass.

That sounded stupid.

Even his fucking romance novelist's brain couldn't think of a decent metaphor for this kid's voice.

It was definitely...something.

It may have been the alcohol, or Shindou's singing, or some gloriously intoxicating combination of the two...

But that punk was starting to look strangely attractive.

Fuck. No.

The kid was skinny and weird, with cheaply-dyed pink hair.

And Eiri didn't even like guys.

But the way he swung those hips, wiggled that oddly alluring (Fuck. No. Not alluring) ass of his, shining and shimmering and _singing, _his smile now as bright as his voice...

Oh, God.

If Yuki Eiri, womanizer of the century, was being reduced to _this, _just because of some brat...what were the _regular _customers thinking?

He grunted and pushed himself out of the booth, not bothering to leave a tip.

It was too early for this shit.

xx

"Whoa. Man." Hiro shook his head. Long strands of hair flew. Shuichi wondered what color he'd say that hair was.

Then he realized it really didn't matter. And laughed to himself.

"I mean, to be hand-picked by Seguchi..." Hiro muttered. Not to anyone in particular, Shuichi thought. Was he talking to him? Should he be listening? "I knew you'd be good, but..._man_."

Shuichi's head spun. Glitter and stardust and explosions of technicolor. Dizzy. So dizzy.

"I did good, then?" Shuichi asked, falling onto the couch...sinking. Comfy.

Sigh.

A brief chuckle. "Yeah, you did good."

A water bottle was thrown, and miraculously, Shuichi caught it. Ah. So cold. He pressed the bottle to his forehead, and before he knew it, the world melted away.

Shuichi had never been drunk before. Or if he had, he couldn't remember. But this, he thought, would have to be what drunk felt like.

Dizzy and giddy and wonderful.

Everything sparkled and blurred and Shuichi could feel himself smile.

Hiro said something, something nice, because he had such a nice voice. And then he walked off, with his hair flying behind him.

Nothing was real, everything was wonderful, and Shuichi decided that he would definitely say Hiro's hair was auburn.

xx

After a dizzy blur of conversations that Shuichi couldn't remember for the life of him, he figured if would be okay if he went home for the night.

Or, you know. To the alley.

He searched through the wardrobe for a jacket small enough to almost fit him.

No such luck.

But he found a rather large one that was cozy and warm, so he didn't mind.

Rolling the sleeves up, he made his way to the door.

When he saw that guy, with his jet black hair and evil eyes. He was with another man. Pudgy and sweaty and balding.

He looked...hungry.

They must be going out to dinner.

Shuichi flung the door open. The wind immediately chomped at his nose. It was still freezing outside.

And dark.

But this was the neon part of town. He could find his way. Surely.

Well.

Probably.

His feet still ached a bit, even in the roomy sneakers Hiro had found for him. Every few steps it stung.

Suddenly his heart got the feeling that, even with a new job, with a new life and sparkles in his hair, things wouldn't change at all.

Tears pricked at his eyes, but the wind blew them away.

He bit his lip. Chewed. Buttoned up his jacket all the way.

And shuddered.

Maybe things never changed.

Everything...became...a little bit brighter.

He turned, shocked and blinking, to face the world's most gorgeous car.

Why would a car like that shine its lights on _him?_

Oh.

Right.

He stumbled his way to the car's window, which quickly slid down.

And all he saw was golden.

"Get in," was all he said.

Yuki-san.

Shuichi's teeth let go of his lip.

And his jaw dropped.

"Get _in,_"Yuki-san repeated. He shook his cigarette out the window. The tiny twinkles of light fell, fell, till they collided with the concrete. Burned. And disappeared.

Shuichi shivered.

And got into the car.

They drove in silence, complete silence, through Neon City.

Shuichi had tons of questions, but he kept them to himself. Just like his laughter when he saw how much faster than the speed limit Yuki-san was going.

He watched the lights – red and pink and blue – flicker and spin and spin and swirl until his mind shut up and again he could feel dizzy and giddy and wonderful.

xx

He was being carried again.

These arms, these arms were strong.

"Yuki-san," Shuichi sighed, into a shirt that must have definitely been silk. "Did I really sing on a stage today?"

Silence.

They climbed some steps, it felt like.

"It wasn't..." Shuichi felt his lip quiver. How lame. "It wasn't a dream, was it?"

"No." One word. One voice. Low and slow and deep and gorgeous.

Wonderful.

All of this was real, and all of it was wonderful.

He snuggled into the silk, and let himself be carried to wherever they were going.

xx

A/N: Drr. I'm late again. I'm sorry! It was, in fact, laziness that kept me from posting, but...I really wanted to post on this day! Why? Because tomorrow is my birthday! (Tuesday, that is.)

So please, it would be like, the best present ever if I got lots of reviews! I wanna know everything; the good, the bad, and the downright ridiculous. So if you read, please review! Thank you!

To everyone who reads this at all, whether you review or not...thanks. ILU.

This chapter...what to say...it was really fun. Typing it out, I'm like "Whoa...this is some pretty crazy stuff." 'Cause I had the flu when I wrote it. So forgive me if it's a bit weird! I made a few arrangements, but I like how it came out.

It actually went not at all in the direction I thought it would but...I like it this way.

Comments? Complaints? Suggestions would be awesome. But, hey, just clicking on this dumb story means enough to me! Sorry for being so hyper...I'm going to sleep...goodnight everyone!


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